


Click

by backwardsghost



Category: TOMORROW X TOGETHER | TXT (Korea Band)
Genre: Body Image, Drabble, Dysphoria, Gen, Lingerie, Mentions of sex work, Photography, Trans Character, Trans Choi Yeonjun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27754015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/backwardsghost/pseuds/backwardsghost
Summary: A camera is a firing squad.ORA study on perception and transness.
Kudos: 14





	Click

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something :/

A camera is a firing squad. 

Yeonjun fixes his phone on the little tripod across his bedroom. He plugs in the fairy lights that line the ceiling, and makes sure some candles are lit on the table by the bed. Burns a little incense, not for function, but just because. All this, so he can look a little warmer in his skin. Obscure the sickly tint of too much time away from the sun.

The cream of the lace lies nicely over the curves of his chest, he thinks. He doesn’t often feel this way; he’ll take it as it comes.

Once Yeonjun is sure the camera angle is right, he takes a seat on his bed, and for a moment presses down with his hand. The plush of the mattress gives, maybe a little too worn-in. There’s a mark left when he withdraws his palm: five-pronged, a simulacrum of a finger-point. 

He takes the photos with the help of a self-timer. Click, ten seconds to pose, check, click again. New pose: head a little higher, chest forward, hand on his neck, suffocating. Click. That’s a particularly good one. He keeps going, letting the headiness of the candlelight take the lead. Turn around, back arched. Head over his shoulder. Bang (click). 

Eventually, sensation overtakes him, from the muskiness of the incense, to the growing heat from the lights. The bed gives, concerningly again. Yeonjun gets up, throws on some loose sweats. Checks his phone. 

In the photos, Yeonjun looks more comfortable than he feels. Maybe he’ll keep them for himself, a reminder of the face Yeonjun knows he can put on, when he must. Maybe these are the ones he’ll share. Soft on top, all delicate lace and flowing lines. Thin straps on tanned skin in orange-tinted light. Rougher on bottom: between tattoos-- the ones he keeps for himself-- lay naked swaths of skin. A potential feast for anonymous eyes. He thinks the photos could look warm, if he decides they are, like placing words to feelings he cannot yet name.

Maybe he’ll take more, when he’s in the mood, when the lighting is better. When his body is different, or his face. Definitely better lighting. Maybe he’ll take just one last photo, for tonight. Yeonjun sets the timer, gets into a final pose: kneeling, facing the camera, eyes set straight at the shutter. One second left.

Click, click, bang.

**Author's Note:**

> Listened to [Heaven](https://open.spotify.com/track/5VrgqxF4HM4NgCboCTbMnL?si=B1fUTHXHS2iybB3ww6LA1Q) by Troye Sivan while writing this and these lines really resonated with me:
> 
> Without losing a piece of me  
> How do I get to heaven?  
> Without changing a part of me  
> How do I get to heaven?  
> All my time is wasted  
> Feeling like my heart's mistaken, oh  
> So if I'm losing a piece of me  
> Maybe I don't want heaven?
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/knotoday)


End file.
